The Burgundy Room
by TeamGwenee
Summary: In her beautiful castle, Edith felt like she was living in a Fairy tale. In truth, she was living in a completely different genre altogether. Bedith. Please review.
1. Chapter 1

_Mary lay on her bed, arms akimbo. Her full white skirts stood out starkly from the crimson red bed spread. The diamonds on her gown twinkled and danced. Quivering candles threw gentle shadows over the warm burgundy walls. Beautiful and luminous in her white gown, Mary looked like an angel. Her eyes flickered open and ran over her body. She noted to her dismay that she was still dressed._

 _Even if she could bring herself to ring for the maid to help her undress, she simply couldn't get up to unlock the door. So she would have to spend the night in this gargantuan ball gown. Mary groaned. It was a foolish plan. As stunning as she looked, her head still pounded from the weight of the wig and her wretched corset was ridiculously tight. She shifted slightly, trying to get comfortable. She groaned again. As tired as she was, she just couldn't spend the night in the corset._

 _She pushed herself from her bed; grimacing, and stumbled over to her dressing table. She grabbed her letter knife. Clinging on the edge of the table, she wriggled her arms out of the gauzy puff sleeves and slit open the laces. Mary took in a deep breath, eager to get her lungs working again._

 _Something was wrong._

 _Mary looked at her chest in horror. Her pristine white gown was rapidly turning red as blood seeped through the floaty fabric. She clutched her stomach in panic, her dark eyes growing wide in horror. She lifted her hand and saw it painted red. A warm droplet of blood trickled down her arm._

 _She collapsed to the floor, terrified eyes flashing wildly._

 _"Oh God," she gasped, "What's happening to me? What's happening to me? Oh God!"_


	2. Chapter 2

It had been Granny's idea. Well, not Granny's idea exactly, but it was her who set the wheel in motion. Bertie and Edith had come to visit and were regaling the family with tales of their stay at Grandma Levinson's, where they had attended a few parties of a very intriguing (and wealthy) man which almost always ended up in anarchy.

Granny had sighed and noted sadly that parties weren't parties anymore. And hardly anyone threw a proper Ball either. A faint smile crossed her lips as she recounted the dances of her youth, thinking longingly of the impractical but ever so romantic hoop skirts that were all the rage.

"And the masquerades!" she cried, "Oh they were simply magical! I will never forget them,"

Edith could not help but be surprised at Granny's outburst. Granny had never hidden her nostalgia for the old days, but something about Granny's voice made her seem so sad and even a little bit... old. Edith had never thought of her Grandmother as a mere mortal. She was always a tower of strength. An all powerful being even God would bow down to and the Grim Reaper would not dare to claim.

Yet, there was something about the way her shaking hands clutched her walking stick and how she took slightly longer to sit down that made Edith see her magnificent Grandmother as slightly more vulnerable than usual.

And vulnerable was not a word that Edith liked associating with her Granny.

"I would dearly like," Granny continued with a sigh, "to go to a masquerade again,"

A silent _'for the last time,_ ' hung heavy in the air, like Grandma Levinson's perfume.

Edith's eyes flickered towards Bertie, wondering if he was thinking the same thing. His eyes met hers for a second, before turning back to Granny. That was all the confirmation Edith felt she needed from her husband.

"Actually," Edith said, "Bertie and I were thinking of holding a masquerade when you are all at Brancaster next month,"

Excited murmurs broke out at this news.

"Well that sounds lovely," Cora exclaimed with a gentle smile. Mary's back straightened, already dressing herself in multiple gorgeous gowns, trying to decide between Greek Goddess or Roman Empress. Or perhaps Cleopatra.

"Does this mean I have to dress up?" Robert grumbled, already seeing himself made a fool out of, done up in some pirate or cowboy outfit.

"Of course Papa!" Mary retorted, "It is a masquerade, and there's no point in having a masquerade if there are no costumes"

"Well, if there are no costumes then it technically isn't a masquerade," pointed out Tom.

"Couldn't I just wear a mask with my whites?" Robert whined.

As the rest of the family discussed costumes, Edith scooted closer to Bertie and placed a hand upon his knee.

"I hope you don't mind," she whispered softly.

Bertie smiled down at her. "Not at all, I think it's a splendid idea," He replied, planting a swift kiss on her hair.

"A proper masquerade ball," a smile lit up Violet's face, making her look like ; for a moment, a young Debutante who was still enchanted by the magic of the Season. Her eyes twinkled and danced in delight.

Edith leaned against Bertie. "A very good idea," she agreed.


	3. Chapter 3

Edith smiled as Cora pulled her into a motherly hug.

"Hello darling," Cora beamed, looking lovingly at her daughter, "How are you?"

"I'm wonderful, thank you Mama," Edith, "Although it's a pity cousin Isobel and Lord Merton couldn't come,"

Robert stepped forward and pulled her into his warm embrace. "Oh, I'm sure they're having a lovely time with the children," he reassured her, "and Isobel must be glad to have a chance to spend some time with George. Mrs Pelham not here to join us?"

"She's escaped to a friend's house. Parties aren't really her sort of thing. Good gracious, Mary!" cried Bertie as he watched the luggage be unloaded, "How many costumes did you bring? We're only having the one masquerade,"

Edith went to join her husband. "I know Brancaster isn't exactly a cottage, but I'm not sure we'd be able to fit your gown into the ballroom,"  
Mary just rolled her eyes.

"I'm going as Empress Elisabeth of Austria and Hungary," she said in way of explanation for the house sized dress box that had been unloaded from the trunk.

"Didn't she die because her corset was laced too tight?" Edith asked.

"Christ, there's a scary thought," Mary murmured, "What about you?"

Edith's face lit up at the thought of her gorgeous masquerade dress. "I'm going as a mermaid,"

 _"Really?"_ Mary raised an eyebrow, "Isn't that rather... adventurous for you?"

"I just wanted to honour my dear sister," Edith said politely, a mischievous glint in her eye.

Mary paused for a bit to register what Edith was implying. "Oh! A cold fish. _Very_ funny. Really Edith, your wit never fails to astound me,"

Edith smirked. "Be careful Mary, don't insult the press,"

They stared at each other, neither one willing to be the first to break eye contact. Finally, they both started chuckling. Mary gave Edith a quick hug.

"Hello Edith, it's good to see you,"


	4. Chapter 4

When only two out of five actually preferred riding horses to cars, it would seem likely that the car would have been chosen over horses for the trip down to the village pub. Except one of the two who preferred horses was Lady Mary, and one of the three who preferred cars was anxious to impress her husband with her new found riding skills. That, and she was eager to get out of the castle through any means necessary. This was how Lady Hexham found herself awkwardly pinching at her tight new jodhpurs in a way that was entirely inappropriate for a great Lady, as she waited for the horses to be brought round.

Although Edith had many lessons from her dear husband, and her horse was probably the sweetest, mot obedient horse alive, Edith couldn't help but feel rather apprehensive as she watched the pretty dun mare be lead towards her.

"Hello Fudgie," she said awkwardly, reaching out to nervously pat her on the nose.

Spotting her nerves, Bertie walked over to Edith and gave her a reassuring smile.

"Don't worry Edith, Fudgie will take care of you. Won't you Fudgie?" he said, giving Fudgie an affectionate pat on the neck.

Edith gave Bertie a tight smile.

"Give me a leg up?" she asked, voice shaking slightly.

"Put your foot in the stirrup," Bertie instructed, placing his hands on Edith's waist.

Edith slipped her left foot into the stirrup and put both hands on either side of the saddle, only to relinquish them as she felt Bertie's fingers tickle her.

She spun round and gave him an affectionate hit on the shoulder. "Stop it you beast!" she ordered, her eyes twinkling. He just grinned back, before lifting her up into the saddle.

"All good?" he asked.

Edith smiled back, adjusting her seat and holding the reins the way she had been taught, feeling slightly safer now that she was on the horse and nothing catastrophic had happened, such as the horse bolting or the ground swallowing her whole.

"All good," she confirmed.

Bertie gave Fudgie another friendly pat, before heading off to mount his own horse.

The party consisted of Mary and Bertie trotting confidently ahead, Edith and Henry gripping onto their reins as they rambled along in their wake and Tom some distance back, trying to drag his naughty mare away from an apple stand in the village market.

"You and Bertie seem to be getting along," Henry noted.

Edith nodded. Well, getting along was one way of putting it.

"You know," Henry began uncertainly, "In some ways I envy the two of you,"

"Really?" Edith asked in astonishment, Henry and Mary seemed so happy.

"Well it's just... I look at the two of you and I can't help.. You two, you're not just husband and wife. You're best friends. There's no games or power play, you're just there for each other, and support each other. I wish I had that,"

"You do," Edith reassured him.

Henry raised an eyebrow. "No games or power play? You have met Mary?"

Edith blinked and laughed. "Oh no!" she said, "I meant Tom!"


	5. Chapter 5

Edith slid the last hair pin into her artfully arranged curls. She sat back for a moment to enjoy the effect. Beautiful strings of crystals and aqua marines had been woven into her hair, and matched the gems on her turquoise gown. The silk and jewels shimmered like water and Edith could not but feel that she looked rather fine. She smiled into the mirror as she watched Bertie walk in behind her, looking very dashing in his red and black regimentals. The men had managed to escape dressing up by donning their army wear, except Tom who had opted to put on his old chauffeur's uniform. Henry had foregone wearing any costume and simply wore his whites with a dashing black mask and opera cloak.

Bertie had not seen Edith, he was too busy tugging at his cuffs.

"How do I look?" Edith asked, standing to give him the full effect.

"You look marvellous," Bertie replied, giving her a quick peck on the cheek.

"Really, so you like the dress?"

"Ye- actually, no," said Bertie. He wrapped his arm around Edith and pulled her closer.

"What?" Edith raised an eyebrow.

"It's terrible, you should take it off immediately,"

Edith broke away laughing. "No can do I'm afraid. We have roughly two hundred guests arriving in half an hour and I'm not sure they would approve of me going in nothing but my slip. Bearing in mind two are my parents and one is my grandmother," Edith pecked Bertie on the cheek and moved towards the door. "I'm going to see how Mary is getting on, if she can actually stand in that monstrous ball gown,"

"Or if you can fit into her bedroom at all,"

Edith chuckled and made her way down the hall and up the stairs to Mary and Henry's room. She paused outside their door and went to knock, as she did so she heard some rather awful grunting sounds from the other side of the door.

"Mary?" she said, "can I come in?"

"Come-in," Mary gasped as Alice, the maid sent to attend upon her, finished up tying her corset.

Edith sat at the edge of Mary's bed. Her eyes widened as she noticed the volume of Mary's skirts.

"Imagine!" she mused, "That people actually wore things like that every day. They must have been mad. How are you going to do your hair? Didn't Empress Elisabeth have very long hair?"

Mary slipped her arm into her sleeve and waved a careless hand over to what Edith has assumed to be a fur coat. "I brought a wig,"

"Goodness! You needn't wear a gown with that. You could simply wrap it round your body and go as a savage,"

Mary's lips thinned, "I think my body has a few more lines now to be able pull that off,"

"It's all the scowling," Edith teased gently. Noticing Mary's lack of response she said, "Alice, be a dear and run along to my bedroom for me please? I've left my shawl on my bed,"

Waiting until Alice had gone, Edith got off the bed and moved over to Mary.

"Mary, is everything alright?"

Mary stared pensively in the mirror. "I won't lie Edith, I would have liked to be scowling less now that I married Henry, and have a beautiful daughter,"

"Can you think of anything that's making you scowl?" Edith asked gently.

Mary tugged on her gloves. "How about the fact Anna is leaving me? She and Bates are going to open a Bed and Breakfast,"

"Oh, I am sorry. But she does have three children now. I suppose it isn't that much of a shock,"  
"Well it was a shock to me," Mary retorted, "And when I say she's leaving me, I mean she's left. And she only told me two day before,"

"What!"

"Oh, everyone else knew, she was just too scared to tell me,"

"I suppose; considering how close you two are, she didn't want to hurt you,"

"Considering how close we too are, you would think that I would have picked up on something. I was too busy sulking over how Tom and Papa had given Mrs Parks Yew Tree Farm without telling me,"

"Why did they do that?"

Mary slumped on her bed, skirts billowing.

"They didn't want me to put up a fuss, so they signed over the tenancy before letting me know. I can't bear it Edith, to know everyone thinks I'm so untrustworthy. Though I suppose I earned that, considering the way I behaved about Marigold,"

Edith awkwardly placed a hand on Mary's shoulder.

"It's just," Mary choked, sounding suspiciously close to tears, "I can't bear everyone having such a poor opinion of me. No matter how much they love me, they still think so lowly of me,"

"I can empathise," Edith said.

"What? You? Papa's golden child, with your magnificent castle and successful magazine," Mary sneered.

"Not always," Edith pointed out, "For a very long time I wasn't even Papa's bronze child. True, things got better after he found out about Marigold, but we both had to change a lot. And if you're unhappy Mary, then you need to make some changes as well, even if it's not your fault. You can't just hope your problems will go away. Believe me, they will only get worse,"

Mary stood up grandly, "Yes, well," she sniffed, "Help me with my wig,"

Edith lifted up the wig, knees practically buckling under the weight.

"Christ! You could press witches with this thing," Edith said as she and Mary fitted it over her head.

Mary barely seemed to notice. She looked at herself admiringly in the mirror. "I don't think 'witches' is the effect I'm going for, more like 'enchantress',"


	6. Chapter 6

Candles, flowers and the moonlight shining through. The ball room looked like something out of a fairy tale. The food had been excellent and the costumes utterly enchanting. Mary and Edith made an attractive pair. Mary, in her majestic ball gown and Edith in her shimmering elegance. Cora had donned a stunning scarlet and black flamenco dress (Robert having managed to escape wearing a matching matador costume by avoiding fittings, claiming stomach pains), and Violet drew every eye with her true Victorian splendor.

It was beautiful and magical and as all balls are after a while, deadly dull. Once the novelty of dressing up had worn off, it was the same as every other party where copious amounts of champagne had not yet been consumed. Tedious conversation and yawn inducing company.

In fact, Edith could barely contain a yawn as she and Bertie waltzed. Bertie caught her eye and grinned.

"Not as fun as Gatsby's, is it?" he said.

The dance over, they made their way over to a corner to have a drink, where they were soon joined by Tom, Mary, Henry, Robert and Cora.

"This is absolutely lovely darling," Cora enthused.

"Lady Grantham is enjoying herself," Tom noted.

The group turned their heads to see Violet happily waltzing on the arm of a rather handsome silver fox.

"I am glad," said Edith, glad to see her granny enjoying herself, "Although, I do wonder if the atmosphere is a smidge..."  
"Slow?" Mary suggested cuttingly.

Edith nodded, smiling ruefully.

"Parties aren't just parties without alcohol," Robert said sadly, he had been on the orange juice all night.

Edith perked up. "I know what we could do!" she suggested eagerly, "By the lake is an old chapel. I've always rather fancied exploring it at night,"

"That does sound rather thrilling," agreed Henry, his speech slightly slurred.

"Well, I'm all for it," cheered Tom.

Cora smiled. "Anything to get Robert away from the champagne,"

The party quietly slipped out, grabbing candles and shawls as they did so. Mary paused in the hallway, in order to rid herself of her 'idiotic wig'.

A gentle breeze blew. The moon shone like melted silver. Edith could not help but compare the stars to diamonds embroidered into a rich, dark blue velvet. She made a note to herself to have a dress made with a similar theme next time she was in London.

The white chapel loomed against the dark sky. Bone white and glowing, it had a haunting, etheral beauty. The group made their way to the entrance, only to see it was covered in ivy. Henry whipped out his pocket knife and cut away at the ivy. They stepped in one by one, the flickering candles throwing light over the walls, so they were half bathed in shadows.

"How beautiful," Robert murmured, batting away some cobwebs.

"Lovely," Cora agreed.

"Exploring old chapels at midnight in costume, I feel like a bright young thing," Robert chuckled, "And those are two things I haven't felt in a long time,"

Tom spun round, his normally friendly smile appearing slightly threatening in the low light.

"Tell you what!" he said, his accent thickening in excitement. "It's midnight, we've got candles. Let's tell horror stories,"

"I'm game," Henry added.

They all murmured in agreement, placing the candles in the middle of the floor. Tom, Henry, Bertie and Edith at down on the floor, (Edith on Bertie's lap) whilst Cora and Mary fussed over their skirts before taking a seat. Robert bent his knee stiffly, before eventually sliding onto his bum, propping himself up with one arm.

"Alright," he said, "Who's going first?"

"Oh Edith," Bertie said, "You should tell them about the ghost here,"

"What?" Cora asked, "Brancaster's got a ghost?"

"Oh yes," Edith said, leaning forward so the candles illuminated her face. She smiled softly, "The ghost of Lady Carolina Berekly,"

 _Lady Carolina Berekly was the orphaned niece of the current Lord Hexham, many years ago. Beautiful and accomplished, to all appearances she was a dutiful, obedient girl. But she had a secret. Whenever the moon was bright, she would sneak from her bedroom at the stroke of midnight, creep across the grounds and into the old chapel. There, waiting for her, was her lover. A local farm hand. Knowing their social differences would forever keep them apart, they swore to love no other for the rest of their lives._

 _One night, the night sky grew heavy with clouds and dimmed the light of the moon. Not wanting to miss seeing her beloved, but unwilling to walk in the pitch black, Lady Carolina struck a candle and used it to guide her way. Unfortunately, just as she walked past his window, her cousin (the heir to the title) looked out and saw the flickering light. Recognising his cousin, the heir quickly got dressed and went to follow her. Crouched in the entrance, he saw Carolina and her lover embrace and swear their love for each other. He did not approve._

 _But Carolina's cousin was crafty, as well as sadistic. So instead of confronting her, he went to report his findings to his father. They waited until the following night when; clothed in black cloaks, they followed her to the chapel. They sat, waiting for the farm hand to appear. And when he did, they leapt from the shadows and cut his throat. Blood sprayed from his neck and spattered across the walls. Carolina gagged. Then, as a further act of cruelty, her cousin picked up his bloody sword and put it to her throat, ordering her to pick up her beloved's still warm body and carry it down into the tomb where no one would ever find it._

 _Having full-filled their grizzly task, they forced the shell shocked girl into her room and locked the door from the outside. For a month she stayed in that room, barely eating and unable to sleep. The sight of her lover's lifeless body and the feel of his blood still imprinted on her mind. Then, on the night of a full moon, her cousin and uncle came to pay her a visit. They informed her that she was to be wed to a borish old Baron, who snorted and wobbled like a pig and smelled of onions._

 _She was found the next morning, swinging limp and lifeless. A noose tied around her neck. At long last, she and her lover were reunited._

 _Some nights when the moon is bright, you can still see the shadow of her body, hanging from the ceiling._

Silence followed Edith's story.

"Golly," Mary murmured. "A bit graphic Edith,"

"What room did you say she died in?" Tom asked nervously, thinking of his own empty bedroom.

"Oh, the Burgundy Bedroom," Edith said innocently, picking at her gloves.

Mary rolled her eyes. "Of course you would put me in the haunted room,"

"I have no idea what you mean sister dear," Edith remarked lightly, "Why, are you afraid?"

"Of course not," Mary scoffed, before shrieking as a sudden gust of wind blew out the candles and plunged them all into darkness.

Bertie hurriedly lit his candle, before helping Edith to her feet.

"Come on everyone," he ordered, "Let's get back to the castle. Unrestful spirits are at work here tonight, and obviously, we aren't wanted,"


	7. Chapter 7

Edith and Bertie strolled arm in arm into the sun-splashed library.

"So it all went well in the end then?" said Bertie.

"It actually turned out to be quite fun," Edith agreed, she lowered her voice, "Especially the private party afterwards,"

"Private party?" came a voice from the sofa, "Why wasn't I invited,"

Edith and Bertie peered round to see a yawning and dishevelled Henry Talbot lying on the sofa.

"Did you sleep there all night?" Edith demanded laughingly.

Henry stretched out. "Mary went to bed earlier than me and locked the door from the inside. I didn't want to wake her up so I had a kip on the sofa," he frowned, "You don't mind?"

"Not at all," reassured Bertie, "But I'm not sure you'll have time to get changed. Breakfast is being set up as we speak,"

Henry shrugged, "Well, if it doesn't bother you I'll just go as I am. I mean, I'm already a second hand car dealer. I can't be much more of a disappointment to my in-laws,"

Henry dragged himself off the sofa and followed them into the breakfast room, where Edith was mildly surprised to see her mother sitting with Robert and Tom.

"Hello Mama," she said, "I'm surprised to see you up early,"

Cora smiled, "I thought it would be a good chance to see more of the house," she admitted.

"God, what happened to you Henry?" Tom asked.

"I spent the night of the sofa, Mary locked the door,"

"Another one of your tiffs," asked Robert sympathetically.

Henry grinned sheepishly, "I didn't want to wake her up,"

Edith was just about to ask if Mary would be joining them when Alice, the head housemaid, came bursting in. Her cap was knocked askew and tea stained her apron.

"Alice?" Edith asked in shock.

"Your Ladyship," she stammered, hands shaking and face white, "Your Ladyship... It's, I... you see..."

"Alice," Edith said gently, walking over to the poor girl, "Sit down and tell me what happened,"

Taking a deep breath, Alice sunk into the nearest sofa, Edith's hand on her shoulder.

"I-I went to serve Lady Mary her breakfast," she choked, "the door was locked and she didn't open it so I went to Mrs Walters to get the spare key. Only once I got in..."

"What is it," Edith demanded anxiously, "Is Mary Ill?"

"No your Ladyship," Alice said, turning her pale face to meet Edith's, "Lady Mary," the words caught in her throat, "is dead,"

The horrified family stood over Mary's corpse. She sat propped up against her vanity, a look of complete and utter terror still etched on her face. The bodice of her gown was crisp with brown blood. Cora gagged.

"What is it?" Violet demanded, pushing her way past the huddle of servants to join her family, "What happened?" she came to an abrupt halt, placing her hand to her mouth. "Oh God," she whispered.

"But how?" Edith stuttered, "She locked the door from the inside. Look. The key is right next to her,"

Robert reached out and pulled Cora to his chest, his eyes filling with tears. The rest of the family remained shell-shocked, white and shaking. Tom's knee buckled and he would have collapsed had Henry and Bertie not caught him. Henry himself seemed too dazed and befuddled to fully comprehend what was going on.

"My Lord," Mr Harris, the butler, said gravely, "The police have arrived,"

Bertie nodded and began to usher the rest of the family away from the door so the police may enter, keeping Edith firmly pinned to his side.

As the police inspected the bedroom and interviewed the staff, the family congregated in the Drawing Room, not making a sound. They sat in complete silence, unable to think of anything to say to each other, waiting for the Police to come and report their findings.

Finally, Detective Winters entered, his grey caterpillar eyebrows drawn close together and his mouth pressed in a firm, serious line.

"I am afraid that we have not yet any idea who killed Lady Mary, nor how such an event came to pass. There is nothing to suggest she was stabbed in the hallway, yet we can see no way the murderer could have entered and left the room,"

"What about the spare key?" interrupted Bertie.

"Mrs Walters had all the spare keys in her possession last night," Winters replied, "And she was with the housemaids until the early hours of the morning, sorting out the linen. Furthermore we found no sign of a murder weapon, not inside nor outside the bedroom,"

"So what happens now?" Cora muttered softly.

"I am afraid I shall have to question you each individually," said Winters, "Mr Talbot, if I may start with you? That way you can get it out of the way and I will leave you to grieve in peace,"


	8. Chapter 8

Edith felt like she had hiked the Alps with Father Christmas strapped to her back. That is to say, being questioned had been rather draining. Tired and in a daze, she stumbled to her Mama and Papa's bedroom, eager for some parental love. But as she reached the door she stopped. Suddenly a sick feeling washed over her. What if they didn't want to see her? What if they couldn't bear looking at her, knowing that she was the only daughter they had left. That out of Sybil and Mary, she was the only one still alive.

She got a grip and told herself to stop being ridiculous. Mama and Papa probably needed her as much as she needed them right now. She was behaving like a child. She opened the door a crack and halted as she heard hushed voices from within.

"I can't stand this. I just feel so guilty Cora," said Robert's broken voice.

"I know darling, as do I," came Cora's watery reply, "But you did what you had to do. You were right in thinking you had no other choice, you know what Mary could be like,"

Edith stepped back smartly, and gently closed the door behind her. She walked swiftly down the hall, repeatedly checking over shoulder to see if Robert and Cora were following, before breaking into a full on sprint. She hurried down the stairs and collapsed against the wall, panting.

Did she honestly hear what she thought she did? She shook her head, no she must be mistaken. Mama and Papa couldn't possibly have meant what she thought she did. And yet... what were they talking about?

Taking a hold of herself, she looked at her watch and saw it was one o'clock. Lunchtime. She didn't feel like eating, but she didn't feel like doing anything else either. And so, she made her way to luncheon, where a silent Bertie, Violet and Tom were already seated, picking at their food. Neither Bertie nor Tom stood for her, but Bertie pulled out the chair next to him and took her hand as she sat beside him. She was soon followed by Robert and Cora, both pale faced and lips tightly pressed . They took their seats. Edith couldn't help staring at them openly, ducking her head when Cora caught her eye.

After several long minutes of silence, Violet eventually managed to choke out a strangled "Have you phoned cousin Isobel and the staff yet?"

Robert nodded gravely. "After we were questioned. But George and Violet and the rest of the children don't know yet. We felt it would be best if we told them ourselves,"

"How did Carson take it?" Tom blurted out.

Robert shook his head. "I don't know, Mrs Hughes took the call,"

"At least he has Mrs Hughes to look after him," Bertie offered.

Silence fell. Tom began to shovel food down his mouth, just to have something to do. Edith tried to follow his lead, but seemed to have forgotten how to swallow. Cora picked up her fork, but just shook her head, face crumbling and put it back down.

"I wander if I may be excused?" she murmured to no one in particular.

"Of course you may," Bertie replied, taking on the role of host.

"Do you want me to come with you?" Robert asked.

Cora shook her head and stood to leave, Edith's eyes boring into her back. Walking out, she bumped into Henry who had stumbled in, clutching an empty hip flask. His face was waxy and eyes hollow. He collapsed into Cora's vacated seat, ignoring the food and instead called for a glass of wine, gulping it down. Wine trickled down his chin and stained last night's shirt.

After lunch Winters had given them an update. The family listened in silence as he described how two of the staff had heard arguing coming from outside Mary's room whilst they were turning down beds from across the hall. They could not recognise the voices but heard a door slam.

The family dispersed silently. Edith and Bertie headed up to their bedroom. They lay together on the bed, staring into space. Edith was resting her head on Bertie's shoulder, who had his arms wrapped around her and was running his thumb over her knuckles.

"How's Alice?" Edith asked eventually, Bertie having checked on the staff earlier.

"Still shaken," he replied. "All the staff are. They keep gossiping about who could have done it,"

Edith could not help but feel slightly put out at the thought of her sister's death being reduced to gossip for the staff. She rolled over and peered at Bertie.

"The thing is," she said, sitting up and wrapping her arms round her knees, "I can't help but feel like I have an idea who did it. But it can't possibly be them. I mean, it's mad,"

Bertie sat up beside her and put his hand on her shoulder. "Do you mean... do you think it's Carolina,"

Edith whipped her head round in shock. "What? No! Do you?"

Bertie chuckled sheepishly. "A little bit, yes," he replied, "It's just, no one could have gotten into that room after Mary locked it. And the moon was awfully bright so..." he trailed off.

"Well I don't think it was the ghost of Lady Carolina Berekly," Edith said, "But I daresay my suspicions are even madder!"

"Oh yes, who?"

Edith sighed. "Mama and Papa,"

Bertie jerked forward, "What? Cora and Robert?"

"I know, I know. Like I said, it's mad! But I overheard them talking earlier,"

Edith told Bertie the tale. He listened, frowning in confusion. Eventually he said, "But why would Robert and Cora do a thing like that?"

"Like I said, it's mad and can't possibly be true. But that's what I heard and I can't get it out of my head,"

"Are you going to tell the Police?"

"Certainly not! Like I said, it's probably nothing. And I won't say anything until I have a better idea of what they were talking about,"

"So what are you going to do?" Bertie asked.

"I'm going to speak to them. I meant to earlier. I'll try to find out what they were really talking about,"

Bertie kissed Edith on the forehead.

"That sounds like a good idea. Like you said, it's probably nothing. And as for being guilty, there is always a feeling of guilt when a loved one dies,"

Edith turned to face Bertie and noticed his face had become sad and haunted. She kissed him tenderly on the lips. Her mouth lingered over his.

"You know?" she said softly, "Sometimes I forget that you were a soldier,"


	9. Chapter 9

Edith made her way to her parent's bedroom, anxiously wringing her hands as she did so. Finally she reached Robert and Cora's door and knocked.

"Come in," called a muffled voice.

Edith entered to see her Mama and Papa sitting on the window sill, Cora resting her head on Robert's shoulder.

"Yes dear, what is it?" he asked absently.

"I just wanted to see you," Edith stammered, scrunching up her skirts in her sweaty hands.

Cora gave her a watery smile and patted the seat beside her. Edith made her way over and let Robert take her hand in his.

"How did your interview with Detective Winters go?" he asked.

Edith grimaced. "Not pleasant, but he was nice enough," she considered her next words carefully, "He asked me about my relationship with Mary. It made me think how glad I am to have ended on good terms with her,"

"I wish I could say the same," sighed Robert sadly.

Edith's heart started thudding underneath her blue crepe de chine blouse.

"What?" she asked.

"I'm afraid that Mary and I were caught up in a bit of an argument. Well, me, her and Tom. She had just found out we gave Daisy Parks the tenancy of Yew Tree Farm without consulting her. She was still rather angry," Robert explained, his voice cracking "And now she will never have a chance to forgive me,"

Cora squeezed Robert's hand. "She would have forgiven you eventually. If you had told Mary first she may have kicked up a fuss and poor Mrs Parks would have been forced to wait for an answer. You did what you had to do,"

Both Robert and Cora were rather surprised to see Edith break out into hysterical laughter, which quickly turned into violent weeping.

Tears now dried, Edith hurried along to find Bertie. She aimed to tell him all she knew. She berated herself on her wild assumption. Why, she had heard it from Mary herself that she and Papa had a quarrel of Yew Tree Farm. Unable to find Bertie in their bedroom, she made her way to the Library. As she did so, she heard her name called.

"Edith! Edith, wait!"

She spun round to see Henry chasing after her. Ever since Mary's body was found, Henry had appeared confused and dazed. Seeing Mary's body seemed to have knocked a few screws loose. Yet now he appeared alert and anxious. She halted in her tracks as Henry caught hold of her wrists. His sharp fingernails dug into her skin.

"Edith," he gasped, "You have to come quickly,"

"What? What is it?" she demanded urgently, her heart thudding. Oh God, not another murder?

"It's Bertie," breathed Henry. Edith began to panic.

"What about Bertie? Is he alright? Where is he?"

"He went riding and had an accident," Henry lifted up a hand to stop her interrupting, "He's awake but we need to get him to hospital,"

And with that Henry sprinted off. Edith was hot on his heels, desperate to make sure her husband was safe. They sped down the stairs and through the hall, past Tom who was staring at a newspaper.

"What's going on?" he asked as Edith and Henry dashed past. But they just ignored him as they hurried off into the early evening.

Flummoxed, Tom stood to watch their retreating figures, wondering if he should go after them. As he did, Bertie emerged from a corner where he had been browsing for a book.

"Was that Henry and Edith I just saw hurry past?" he asked curiously.


	10. Chapter 10

Edith stumbled behind Henry into the woods on the estate. Her feet ached from running in heels and a light sheen of sweat covered her forehead. She panted heavily for breath and dropped her hands to her knees when Henry suddenly came to a halt. She looked around, only to see they were completely alone. Surrounded by dense trees and the sun setting, Edith noticed she could barely make out the features on Henry's face.

"Henry," she asked uncertainly, "where's Bertie?"

Henry didn't reply, instead he stared at her with an odd look on his handsome face.

"Henry," Edith repeated, now feeling sufficiently spooked.

"I'm awfully sorry about this Edie," Henry said softly. "But I don't really have a choice,"

Then, to Edith's horror, Henry calmly reached into his pocket and produced a black pistol. Edith's heart froze as he pointed it to her chest.

"Henry, what are you doing?" Edith's voice cracked in terror. _'Oh God!'_ she thought, _'This can't be happening!'_

A deranged look in his piercing green eyes, Henry's hand shook violently.

"I'm really sorry Edie. I do feel awfully bad about this. But there's nothing else I can do. You see, I heard you tell Bertie you knew who it was who murdered Mary,"

"What?" Edith stood, frozen by fear.

"You found out it was me," Henry continued. "You found out it was me who stabbed Mary..."

 _Mary had claimed to have a headache, brought on by the music and her heavy wig. She made her way to her bedroom, swiftly followed by Henry who had a lustful glint in his eye. He lay his hand of the small of her back._

 _"Did Edith's story scare you?" he whispered flirtatiously._

 _Mary stepped away from his touch and fiddled with her keys. "No," she said shortly._

 _"Are you sure? Don't you want me to keep you safe tonight?"_

 _"Certainly not," Mary rebuked, rather relieved to finally have the door open._

 _"Oh come on Mary," Henry pleaded._

 _"Not tonight Henry," said Mary sternly, "I just want to rest,"_

 _Henry blocked Mary's way and leered down at her. "Come now Mary, aren't I your husband?"_

 _Mary looked Henry dead in the eye. "Well, maybe I don't want you to be my husband anymore,"_

 _Henry's charming facade dropped, leaving him looking utterly nonplussed._

 _"What?" he stammered._

 _Mary's jaw stiffened. "I said that I do not wish to be your wife anymore," she repeated in a firm voice._

 _Henry's face took on an unflattering look of childish petulance._

 _"Why?" he demanded. As Mary tried to walk past him, he grabbed a hold of her wrist and shoved his face right into hers. "No! Tell me why," he ordered, spittle flying everywhere._

 _Conceding Henry deserved an explanation, she said simply, "Henry, I am not happy with you. I am afraid that I do not think that I love you. Nor that I ever did, or at least, not as much as I pretended to,"_

 _Henry's hand dropped to his side in shock._

 _"I can't believe this," he said, "No matter how hard I tried, whatever I do... I am still not good enough for the High and Mighty Lady Mary!"_

 _Mary went to leave, not wanting to have a confrontation so late at night. Henry grabbed her once more and pressed her against the wall._

 _"You know?" he spat, "You think yourself so much greater than me! But you're not that much of a catch either! You own a small part in your father's estate, which will all go to your son. You're spiteful and arrogant. All you have is your looks, and believe me they aren't sticking around. They're already beginning to fade!" he roughly spun her round so that she was pushed up against a mirror._

 _"Look at all those lines round your eyes," he jeered cruelly, "And is that a grey hair I see?"_

 _Mary struggled against his grip. "Let me go!" she demanded._

 _Henry laughed. "You know? Edith was right. You should have come as a mermaid, seeing as you are such a wet fish!"_

 _"Well then," Mary retorted coldly, "Clearly us getting a divorce is in both our best interests. You wouldn't want to be married to a dead fish,"_

 _Henry spun Mary back round to face him. He glared down at her. "I promised you that I would make breaking up with me as hard and horrible as possible," he reminded her. And with that, he drew his pocket knife and slipped it through her bodice and into her abdomen, before swiftly pulling it back out again. Barely seeming to notice, Mary wrenched herself away from Henry and stormed into her bedroom, slamming the door behind her._

"You told her she should change what made her unhappy, I heard you" Henry continued calmly, "And then I heard you tell Bertie you knew who it was who did it. So now you see, I have no choice. I can't let you live. I can't let you tell the police and have them take me away from my family,"

It was at this point Edith realised three things. First, that Henry was completely deranged. Secondly, this was not all some terrible nightmare and thirdly, she probably wasn't going to survive this night.

"I will have to get Bertie too after this," Henry added.

"No!" Edith cried. "Please don't hurt Bertie, he has no idea. Neither did I until you told me. You see, I overheard Mama and Papa talk about an argument they had with Mary. That's all. I didn't have a clue it was you until you told me,"

"Really?" asked Henry.

"Really," Edith confirmed, "Please don't hurt Bertie" she begged.

"I won't," Henry promised, "I truly am sorry about this Edie. I genuinely thought that you knew. What an absolutely terrible cock up,"

He pointed his gun at Edith, who was still rooted to the spot. And yet, as she stared down the barrel of the pistol, Edith realised that she had to survive this moment. That she couldn't let herself die. Not yet.

Edith leaped as Henry pulled the trigger. The bullet grazed Edith's side, causing her to fall to the ground in pain with a yelp. Henry stood over her, a leg either side, trapping her.

"If it is any consolation Edie," he said politely, "At least it will be quick. Even quicker than Mary's. I guess she started bleeding out the minute she opened her corset,"

Henry held the pistol to Edith's head. She couldn't move and there was no way he would miss. There was absolutely nothing she could do to escape...

She swung her knee up and kneed him in the balls.

Except that.

Henry dropped his pistol and collapsed to the floor with a grunt, his eyes watering. Edith scrambled to her feet, only to be dragged back by her hair which had become loose in the scuffle. Henry clamped his hand over Edith's mouth and grasped for his gun. Edith struggled desperately but his grip was too strong. She opened her mouth and sunk her teeth into his hand, causing him to yelp in pain and release her. She grabbed the pistol staggered to her feet.

She spun and pointed the gun at him, straight in the head. And yet she could not pull the trigger. She didn't have it in her to kill someone, not even the murderer of her sister. Henry looked back her, calmly awaiting his fate. Edith did not know what he would do when he realised Edith could not bring herself to shoot, but still she couldn't pull the trigger. Her hands shook and sweat poured down her forehead. Edith discovered that even without a gun, Henry had a major advantage over her. He was willing to kill.

But over his shoulder, Edith spied a figure slowly approach. Her eyes snapped back to Henry and saw to her relief that Henry had not followed her gaze. All she had to do now was keep him talking.

"Henry," she pleaded, "Just turn yourself in. They will go easier on you if do. Tell them you were drunk and couldn't help yourself, they might let you off with life,"

Henry shot her a look of complete and utter loathing.

"You want me to hand myself over. A life behind bars is not worth living," he thrust out his arms, "I would rather die,"

As he said this, Henry felt a smart tap on his shoulder. He whipped round to see Bertie Pelham glaring down at him, his lips twisted in a threatening snarl.

"Don't you dare touch my wife," he growled, before knocking Henry off his feet and to the floor with one punch.

Edith peered down at Henry's body. He was completely out of it. Bertie tied Henry's hands and feet together with both his and Henry's own tie, before running over to Edith and gathering her in his arms. His forehead frowned in concern as Edith winced in pain when he brushed where the bullet had grazed her.

"Let's get you to the hospital," he said, running his eyes over her, "We can call the police from there. Are you alright?" he demanded.

"Spiffing," she replied. "How did you find us?"

"Henry's pocket knife fell out if his jacket when he was running. The blade was covered in blood. I just followed your footprints in the mud. I saw you fight him," Bertie kissed her furiously, "You were magnificent," he told her.

Edith smiled back weakly. "You were rather impressive too," she offered, "You knocked his lights out in one hit. I'm rather surprised you pack such a strong punch.

Bertie chuckled.

"Well like you said," he smiled, "you keep forgetting that I was a soldier,"


	11. Chapter 11

Epilogue

The Church was full, which was something to say, even if only half the mourners fully grieved Mary's death. But that could be said for many funerals, no matter the corpse. And the grief felt by each individual who truly knew Mary was enough to be shared among a Cathedral full of people. White calla lilies, the flowers of Mary's first wedding, stood stately and cool. Mary herself was white and cold to touch, lying in her pristine wedding dress. Soon she would be returned to her husband's side.

Now the numbness and confusion had faded, the entire family had been left with nothing but a most intense feeling of grief and heartache.

Travis droned on and on. Saying the words Edith had heard so many times now, she could practically mouth them along with him. "Dearly missed", "Beloved friend", "Tragically struck down in their prime".

The same words Edith had heard at every funeral she had attended. She felt sick. Travis said not a word of Mary's never-ending cruelty, nor her monumental kindness. He spoke not of her wit nor her selfishness. No true mention was made of her goodness, nor her wickedness. Both of which had the right to be truly remembered. For they were what made Mary who she was and who they were mourning the loss of. Not this toned down, empty stranger Reverend Travis insisted on calling Lady Mary Crawley. At least he didn't call her Lady Mary Talbot.

Edith couldn't take anymore and stood abruptly, calling herself to the attention of those around her. Unwilling to make anymore of a scene, she shook off Bertie's concerned arm and slipped out quietly.

She sat down on a cold stone bench and let out a few ragged sobs, before breaking down in tears completely. She couldn't go back in. Not with Travis rambling on and on about some person Edith didn't know but certainly wasn't her sister. Suddenly, a memory of when she was little; about seven or eight, slid into her head.

She and Mary were playing in the garden, despite being told not to as they were in their Sunday best. Edith had fallen over and had gotten her gloves dirty. She began to wail, knowing she would be in severe trouble when she was found out. Mary had given Edith her own gloves. She said it was to shut Edith's whining up, but Edith knew the truth.

Edith blinked at the memory. Were they always like that? She wondered, back when they were truly sisters and before all those things that seemed so small now had driven them apart. Her heart lurched. All those childhood memories of when the two actually seemed to like each other, and these more recent months when they had been on good terms, were simply not enough. They were merely a cruel teaser of what the two of them could of had if different decisions were made. If better actions taken and straighter paths walked down.

She was drawn from her thoughts by a large, warm arm being wrapped around her shoulders. She looked up to see her Papa looking down on her. He pulled out his handkerchief and wiped away her tears. Once more, she broke down sobbing on his shoulders.

"Oh Papa," she cried.

He held her close, rocking her gently. "That's it my darling," he said, "Hang British stoicism and have a good cry,"

"I just can't help regretting," she confessed, "that we weren't closer,"

"But I thought thing were good between you and Mary in the end?"

Edith nodded. "I just wish we had more time together, as proper sisters. That we had made amends earlier,"

Robert tucked a stray lock of Edith's hair behind her ears.

"If it weren't for you coming back on Mary's wedding day," he said, "You two would have had no time together at all,"

"But-" Edith began.

"By coming back you showed yourself to be incredibly brave and mature. When you forgave Mary I was so proud of you," Robert smiled ruefully, "And in hindsight, apart from little Violet, that seems to have been the only positive outcome of that ghastly day,"

Robert kissed Edith tenderly on the forehead.

"Don't dwell on what might have beens darling," he said, "That never does any good,"

Sensing she needed some time alone, Robert stood to re-enter the church. Edith watched his retreating back, thinking of all the losses her father had faced. Of the losses all of them faced. She would count them. First Sybil, then Matthew, Michael and now Mary. Edith thought of all her lost loved ones and the difference they had each made in her life. Sybil, with her unfaltering kindness. Matthew, who always defended and supported her. Dearest Michael who taught her to make her voice count, and gave her precious little Marigold. And Mary who; despite all her faults, had given Edith the chance to be the bigger person for once,

In that moment, Edith decided to never let the loss of her loved ones lead her to bitterness. Instead, she resolved to take everything she learnt from them, all the lessons they had taught her and use it to mould herself into a different person. A stronger person. A kinder person. A person they would be proud of and she would be proud to be. In the hopes that somehow, their spirits would live on through her. Maybe that way, they would never truly be gone, but would still live on in Edith's heart, and in the hearts of all of those who had loved them best.


End file.
